Chapter Text
Johnny. Quiet, little Johnny. Nobody ever thought he'd do it. But that night in the lot. It was an act of self defense. He hadn't meant to kill that Soc, he never wanted to take anyone's life! He carried that switch just for a scare to get 'em off his back. But the feel of the blood falling from the blade and onto his hand. The way it dried on the cement. It was.. oddly beautiful. Like a gruesome painting. Johnny had been mesmerized by it. Drawn to stick his fingers in it and feel how it stuck his fingers together before he pulled them apart. The stickiness was a perk of it, the real charm was the color. It was such a beautiful color of red, like rust, like Two-Bits hair. It was drying so fast, sticking to the Soc's clothes and the pavement. Oh right, the Soc. He was still alive, but was slowly losing the battle of his life. Johnny looked at those wild eyes, frightened and confused. For once, he didn't feel afraid. He felt.. triumphant. He'd killed a Soc. He killed a Soc! He won the fight! He suddenly became aware of how much his cheeks hurt. He was smiling. Smiling at the terrified Soc beside him. He wasn't afraid. For the very first time in his life, clutching the bloodied knife, he wasn't scared. He knelt down to the Soc, placing the knife back inside the fatal wound. He watched the Soc wince in pain, struggling to try and get away. Johnny wouldn't let him, pressing the knife further in and twisting it. The gurgled gasps of the Soc were like music to his ears. The pain and regret. The hurt and distress. He wanted this Soc to feel what Johnny felt the day he'd been jumped by him and his friends.
He pushed the knife further, blood pushing out as he went. He heard hiccuping, coughing spatters of blood. The Soc was crying! Crying like this wasn't what he deserved. Him and his goons tried to kill.. Ponyboy! Johnny pulled the knife away quickly, searching by the fountain with his eyes for Ponyboy. The blonde was laying against the ground, unconscious and shivering cold. Johnny dropped the knife, rushing over to Ponyboy and shaking him.
"Pone! Wake up!" Johnny held worry in his voice, his twisted smile gone. "Ponyboy, wake up!"
After a good deal of shaking, Ponyboy began to regain consciousness. His shivering got worse however, which made sense. It was freezing cold after all. Ponyboy's teeth were chattering as he sat up, eyes wide as he soon noticed the blood on Johnny. Johnny shushed him as he pointed at the Soc laying on the ground, then motioned for him to get up quietly. Ponyboy looked white as a ghost as he eyed Johnny, but he was his closest friend so he nodded and heaved himself off the ground. Johnny's heart was racing. What could they do? He'd just killed a guy. D.. Dallas probably knows what to do! Johnny began to pull the bewildered Ponyboy in one direction, Buck's bar. Dallas was always there. Ponyboy was too confused and cold to really care where he was being dragged, all he knew was that Johnny had just saved his life and that they needed to get going. Blood was smeared on his hand from the crismon liquid being all over Johnny's hand. It was so gross, but Ponyboy didn't dare make it vocal considering how crazy the night was already. Ponyboy just wanted to be back home, with his brother and under the covers of his bed where it was warm and dry.
All Johnny could think about was getting to Dallas. Getting to the one guy he knew would know how to help. Who'd help. Johnny wondered how his blood would flow. How pretty it'd be on the metal of his switchblade. That little smile began to creep onto Johnny's face again, and this time Ponyboy saw and it creeped him out. Johnny was always a strange kid, but what was he smiling about? It was all so strange and confusing. Everything moved so fast, from getting to Buck's, banging on the door, being pulled inside by Dallas, Pone getting a new set of dry clothes. Johnny being questioned by Dallas was especially dizzying. His lower arm was covered in blood after all, that was some pretty sketchy crap. Dally wanted to keep an eye on Johnny, but he knew the boys couldn't stay in town. Johnny was a murderer, and Ponyboy his accomplice basically. They needed to get out of Tulsa and fast.
He gave them a gun and fifty dollars, telling them about a train. And off they went. But Johnny couldn't stop thinking about it. The blood. The blood, it was just so pretty. It was so nice and freeing to watch the life seep out of that Soc in crimson pools on the cement. He wondered if he'd ever get to see it again. The church was quiet, it allowed Johnny to think. His mind was crowded and cluttered. Blood, one side desired, the blood of the Socs who'd hurt him and his friends. Turn yourself in, the other cried, make amends with the family he'd torn apart. But the cry for blood was louder. Screaming and shouting or more. And more, would it get.
While Ponyboy was asleep, Johnny went into town, his switchblade tucked into his pants pocket. Girls were always walking around by themselves, it'd be an easy fix. And nobody would ever know that the little church on the hill was where the blood craven kid was hiding. Waiting. Watching. Ready to fulfill the need to paint and see blood when it arose. Ponyboy would be oblivious to the inhuman activities, what little he knew, the better. Ponyboy was his best friend after all, it'd be a shame if he thought him a monster. Johnny was no monster, just someone with a very special interest. A desire of control. A few lives taken was only pebbles in the great wave to come when he'd get back to Tulsa. Those Socs were going to pay. And they would pay in blood.